Suburbia Ch. 01

Later that evening, Marcus went into the city to do some shopping. When he returned, he saw the McCartys on their front porch, locking eyes on his car as soon as he turned onto the street. He paid them no mind and unloaded his groceries, but no sooner had he finished doing so than the doorbell rang. Expecting to find Susan, he was unpleasantly surprised to find Mr. Randall McCarty standing on his front porch.

"Pull up a chair, Randall," was all Marcus said as he stepped onto the porch. His guest did so, and Marcus took a seat directly opposite him.

For a long time neither man spoke, Randall never taking his eyes off his wife, who was still across the street, and Marcus never taking his eyes off Randall. Finally Randall broke the ice: "I hear you showed my wife a pretty good time last night."

"OK...?"

"Or should I say, I smelled; she reeked of alcohol when I came home this morning. I asked her about it and she told me everything. I gotta ask, why? What in the hell would possess you to sleep with another man's wife?"

"The answer is on the ceiling right above you."

Randall looked up. Framed by the words, "The All-Knowing," was a mirror. He glared at Marcus. "You're saying I drove my wife to cheat on me?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

"Don't you judge me, dammit, you have no right!"

"I may not, but I can certainly provide damning evidence to those who do. Tell me; what's her name, the blonde, who lives in Rittenhouse Apartments, at 17th and Capitol Streets, apartment 1209? Heather Graham, isn't it?"

Randall almost choked. "How did you know?" he whispered.

"Like I told Susan, nothing happens on this block that I don't know about. Suffice it to say, I have my methods."

Randall forced a laugh. "Well, your 'methods' are going to be costing me $5000 a month from now on."

"I'm sorry?"

"She wants the divorce."

"Sorry as I am to hear that, I fail to see how that concerns me. However, I will say this: People who come over to my house to socialize, I offer drinks. People who are here on business, I don't. Now, I haven't offered you anything yet. What should that tell you?"

"You think I'm here on business?"

"It would certainly serve you well."

"How so?"

Marcus couldn't help but laugh. "If you haven't thought of something by now, then enjoy life with your new blonde bride."

"OK, OK, OK... I had thought of something..."

"I'm listening."

"Remember how I said that a divorce would cost me 5 grand a month?"

"Just in alimony. You haven't touched child support, or the cost of the divorce itself."

"Exactly. If that were to happen... here's the deal. You convince her to keep the marriage intact, and I'll pay you $2,500 a month."

"Hmm... I don't think I can do that without knowing what's in it for her."

"You."

"Huh?"

"The way you made her feel last night, she said that's the happiest she's been in years. And I could see it in her eyes, too. They had found their sparkle again, I guess. I mean, let's be realistic; there's no chance at 'us' ever being happy again. But if 'I' can be happy, and 'she' can be happy, then things will work out I think."

"Tell you what, I like the sound of that. I'll be right back." Marcus crossed the street, leaving Randall to watch him sit down with Susan and make his pitch. Eventually, Susan smiled and hugged Marcus, a surefire sign that she had accepted. Finally the three came together to finalize the deal. Randall would make payments on the 1st and 15th of every month of $1,250 each into a private account at the bank Susan worked at under Marcus' name. Susan wouldn't bring the divorce suit, and Marcus would see to it that she was cared for sexually.

Marcus had to congratulate himself on this deal. He was never much of a businessman, but the $1,250 that was being deposited into his bank account every two weeks (by the husband of the woman whose sexual rebirth he was overseeing, no less), might have convinced some people otherwise.